The wind blew,
aflame, not burning;
softly, gently, caressingly;
penetrating pianissimi billowingly.

I yielded;
I'm carried along,
effortlessly, unhurriedly,
seemingly randomly.

Little things,
a glimpse here, a sparkle there,
a dash of brilliance now and then,
simple unsurprising things.

Then I looked back, and I see:
how far and how changed I've been;
Truth, simple and little, adds up recursively,
transforming compoundingly.